Unknown

The form asked and I had to write

"I don't know" in the blank.

I don't know what's running through me.

I don't know my own code.

The doctor looked up for a second

like I'd failed at something basic,

like knowing your blood type was supposed to be

the minimum requirement

for being alive in your own body.

But I've never needed it.

Never needed to know

what type of thing I am,

what would keep me,

what would poison me.

Now it sits in a file somewhere,

that blank line,

that small space where an answer should go,

and I'm still walking around

not knowing what I'm made of.